


As Darkness Rises, So Must the Light

by Yatzstar



Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Din is a good dad, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jedi, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Mythology References, Ossus (Star Wars), The Dark Side of the Force, The Light Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: The Mandalorian and his Child visit a largely forgotten planet in search of information about the Jedi. However, they are unprepared for the dark things that linger there, lying in wait.Both of them face new enemies the likes of which they have never encountered before, and must find the strength to overcome them.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565002
Comments: 61
Kudos: 391





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Putting this fic under Legends as well because all this stuff about Ossus and the Ysanna are technically Legends material, but I say it's canon. lol enjoy

They went to Ossus based on a rumor Din overheard in a market a whisper of _je’dai._ It wasn’t much, but that was all he had on the race of sorcerers. He had gone on much less.

The planet loomed in the Crest’s viewport at last, the scape marbled with mostly browns, but a few shades of green and blue intermixed. When the Child caught sight of the approaching world, he babbled eagerly and slipped from his pram, waddling towards the man he knew would offer him a better look.

“Alright, alright,” his father grouched as he tugged on his pantleg, pretending to be grumpy. The Child just smiled as his father lifted him into his lap, having learned that false grumpiness was a weak disguise for fondness. “Don’t mess with anything, for my sake.”

The Child stood, wobbling as he tried to see the planet in its entirety, and his father put out a gentle hand to steady him.

Din took the colors in as well, though with far less wonderment than the Child. He had been on nice, life-filled planets plenty of times before, but not since Sorgan, so it was a nice change from the bleak wastlelands they normally found themselves on. It was also sparsely inhabited, which meant less of a chance of them being attacked for want of his beskar, the Child, or both.

“Sit down,” he told the kid as they entered the atmosphere, gently tugging on the back of his robe. “I can’t pilot and hold you up at the same time.”

The Child harrumphed in discontent as his view was obscured by the dashboard, but did as his father asked.

Din had already figured out where he should go, having had a couple of days of travel to consult planetary databases. It seemed his best bet was to go to a somewhat large settlement named Knossa, located in a mountainous region. He had read of old ruins near the settlement that had once belonged to the _je’dai_ , but no matter how deep he dug, he could not find anything else besides the location. He found this strange considering the large settlement nearby, and he had expected that the place would be well documented especially now that the Empire was gone, but apparently not.

For a moment, the ship passed into the clouds, surrounding them in a sea of white for only an instant until they descended below, revealing the mountainous terrain that spread out like a great stony ocean interspersed with the green of trees. The Child squealed at the sight and couldn’t help himself, trying to stand, but Din placed a firm hand on his head.

“Stay, _ad’ika_.”

Knossa may have been large as far as settlements went, but they were clearly not expecting any visitors. There was no formal spaceport, so Din opted to land on the flat plain that spread out beyond the settlement, meeting its end at cliffs and rocky terrain that jutted high into the sky.

As they drew closer to the ground, he caught sight of the buildings below, but he also saw something else, a bigger structure further up in the mountains nearby. It could be hardly called a building; it was barely there, blending in with the rocky terrain and trees, but he could tell that there had used to be something of grandeur there. He could make out the outline of many steps leading up to a large, crumbling square structure that was likely once very beautiful, the embossments in the ancient stone still slightly visible.

The ruins of the _je’dai._

He forced himself to turn his attention to the task at hand: landing. Since there was no spaceport, there was no set of coordinates to autopilot his ship into a bay, so he had to land manually. The terrain on the plain was smooth, but navigating around the tightly gathered peaks to get to said plain at a low speed was the hard part.

“Hold on,” Din grunted as they sped over mountains, the terrain opening below them as it dropped down to flatter rock. He slowed the ship quickly, and the Child giggled as he threatened to faceplant into the dashboard, but somehow managed to keep himself upright.

Carefully, he brought the Crest lower, aiming to land them in the shadow of a steep incline where passersby would be less inclined to notice the sheen of metal. He landed them with a slight jolt, and the Child squeaked in surprise.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Could’ve been worse.”

The Child giggled as Din lifted him and carried him from the cockpit, retreating to the hold to prepare for their excursion. Judging by the position of the two suns, it was afternoon already, which meant they had just enough time to get a feel of the area before nightfall.

The kid frowned as Din set him in the makeshift sling beneath his cloak, wiggling a little in protest.

“You can walk tomorrow,” the man said, preforming a quick cursory check of his equipment. “I don’t have enough time to slow down today.”

The Child’s discontent dissipated when Din opened the hatch, a fresh, warm breeze hitting them both.

“Ready?” Din asked, looking down at the Child.

The kid looked back at his visor and squeaked eagerly, pointing to the outside world.

“Let’s go.”

The moment Din stepped from the ship, he instinctively checked the land in every direction. Before them to the north lay the settlement in the distance, easily visible. To their left lay a steep rocky incline dotted with trees, the corner of the _je’dai_ ruins visible beyond it. To their right was a smaller rocky slope that gently gave way to a forest, and behind them loomed the steep incline, a tree springing from the rock occasionally.

The Child took in the peaks with awe, far less concerned with location and visibility than his father. He wanted to see more beyond his father’s cloak, and tugged at his hand.

“What?”

The Child gesticulated wildly, trying to push the cloak aside. He wanted to see more!

His father sighed, a sound he was beginning to associate with him getting his way. “Fine, but hold on tight, okay?”

The Child squealed with delight as his father lifted him up to his shoulder, setting him on his pauldron. Here he could see everything, and it was so big he could barely take it in. He tilted back, trying to see everything at once, and nearly tumbled off his father’s shoulder.

“Be careful,” Din grumbled, reaching up to steady him.

A tiny hand patted his helmet in response.

“When we get close, you’re going to have to go back in the sling.”

The Child giggled.

The suns had sunk a little lower in the sky by the time they neared Knossa. When Din was able to see the movement of the inhabitants, he lowered the Child from his shoulder and placed him in the sling, but this time he did not protest, content with the sights he had seen.

Even before he set foot in between the outer buildings, he knew curious gazes were upon them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two children stop playing and watch him pass. A woman stopped work in her small garden to look at him, but he saw no malice or greed, just innocent curiosity.

As they got further into the settlement, the streets became more populated, and it seemed the settlers were not at all subtle about watching him. Several times he saw people stop in their tracks to watch him pass, but he paid them no mind, heading towards the town center.

The Child squeaked, peering at the buildings and people around them from beneath the cloak, and Din brushed his head gently in a silent reassurance.

Soon enough, he found what he was looking for: the cantina. As soon as he stepped in the door, the conversation dimmed significantly, almost all eyes turning towards him. He ignored them and headed for the nearest vacant table, lifting the Child out of the sling and setting him gently in one of the chairs, taking the opposite one for himself.

After a minute, a young woman approached them. “Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have any kind of broth for the kid?” Din asked.

She nodded. “Yes, we have a meat broth.”

“That will do.”

“Anything for you?”

“No.”

She hesitated, and he knew the question was coming. “Are you a Mandalorian?”

“Yes.”

She ducked her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry for asking, but I’ve never seen one before.”

“Few have.”

“Why are you here?” Her eyes widened when she realized the straightforwardness of her question, and swiftly followed up with, “It’s just that visitors are rare here, especially someone like you.”

She seemed like as good a person as any to ask about the ruins, so Din replied. “I’m interested in the ruins on the mountains.”

He didn’t know what reaction to expect, but he was surprised when a flicker of fear crossed the girl’s face. “You best stay away from that place.”

The Child interrupted their conversation with an indignant squeak, so Din flipped her an extra credit. “Get me that broth and then we’ll talk.”

She returned in a few minutes with a warm cup of broth, handing it to the Child, who snatched it eagerly. She took the seat Din offered, smiling as the Child sipped noisily.

“I’m Kasa,” she said, and when he did not reply, she continued. “Do you have a name?”

“Yes.”

When she realized she was not getting a straightforward answer, she snorted. “Does he have a name?” She jerked her head towards the kid.

“No.”

She placed her elbows on the table, her expression serious. “Alright Nameless, why do you want to go to those ruins?”

Din rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“They’re guarded by the Ysanna.”

He wracked his brain for a memory of the name, but came up empty. “Who are they?”

Kasa shook her head. “I’ve never seen them, just heard the stories. They are human, or near to it, and they guard the ruins.”

“Why?”

“No one knows. The ones who have tried to go to the ruins are knocked unconscious and wake up near the city outskirts.”

“Wait, they don’t kill you?”

Kasa shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard.”

Din did not reply immediately, digesting the information. Normally protective groups would just as soon shoot an intruder dead, or at least that was what he had found in his experience.

“I wouldn’t test it, though,” she continued. “From what I’ve heard they’re fierce.”

“Is there only one way into the ruins?”

“As far as I know, yes, but the Ysanna usually don’t let you get close enough to find out.”

Din nodded. At least these Ysanna were not deadly…maybe.

The Child finished his broth and set the bowl down, burping loudly. Kasa snickered at him.

“You want some more?”

The Child babbled and waved his hands, and she looked at Din, likely hoping for some kind of translation.

“I think that’s a yes,” he said.

Kasa couldn’t tell him much more about the ruins. She explained that they had been there for probably thousands of years, but information on what the place used to be was nonexistent due to the tribe fiercely guarding it.

After the Child downed two more bowls of broth with astonishing speed, Din took his leave, thanking the girl by way of extra credits. When he stepped outside, the suns had sunk lower, bathing everything in the orange of evening. The ruins loomed in the background of the settlement, the old stones bathed in the light and the long shadows.

The Child peeked out at the strange building in the distance, and instantly felt a connection to it in his spirit. Whether it was good or bad he could not say, but the spirit surrounding the place was old, perhaps even older than the crumbling stones.

“That’s where we’ve got to go,” his father sighed. “It’s not going to be easy. It never is.”

The Child slipped in and out of a doze on the way back to the ship. The rhythmic sway of the sling with his father’s steps along with the contentment of a full stomach easily lulled him into a warm haze of sleepiness.

He only came fully awake again when the hatch of the ship opened with a sharp clang against the stone ground. The suns had set now, leaving everything just barely illuminated in the bluish haze of twilight.

“Tired?” his father asked as he stepped onto the ship.

The Child murmured, scrubbing at his eyes as his father lifted him from the sling with one hand, closing the hatch with another.

“Sleep,” his father said, carrying him over to the cot. “I’ll be right here.”

Normally the Child would protest at being put to bed without his father joining him, but this time he was too sleepy to care. He curled up on the cot as soon as he touched it, and gentle hands arranged the blanket around him as he slipped into true sleep.

Now that the Child had his father, the fears of his old life were gone. His stomach was no longer painfully empty, he no longer had to bare long periods of isolation, and he was never lonely.

However, now that he had his father, a new fear had sprung forth, more painful than any of the old ones. He feared that he would be torn away from his father; there were many out there who bore ill intent towards the both of them, and he worried that one day they would succeed in taking him away.

Along with this new fear came something else, a feeling that he had not experienced before. In the moments when he was most afraid, something dark curled in at the edges of his spirit in almost a gentle, coaxing manner. It urged him towards burning anger against the ones who sought to separate him and his father, and also towards something darker that he was not sure of…something blacker.

He tried not to dwell on this strange feeling even when he was afraid. On one hand, it felt good to be angry at his enemies, but on the other, the depth of the darkness that hovered on the edge of his spirit was frightening.

Often his fear manifested in dreams, and that night was no exception. However, in the end, it turned to something different, something new.

_Hands bearing nothing but pain and terror grabbed at him, tearing him away. His father lay still, and he could no longer feel his spirit._

_He wailed, reaching for his father, but the hands would not let him go. The evil intent of his enemies overpowered him, and his vision faded…_

_His vision returned, and now he stood in a new place. It was a cave, the rocky ceiling arching high above. In the very center of the ceiling, a hole let in a faint shaft of light, shooting straight down onto the floor of the cave beside him. He looked down at where the light shone, and saw a seal upon the floor. It was the image of a sword with a star at its hilt, flanked by wings on both sides and surrounded in a circle._

_Then he felt it._

_It was the same feeling he had felt when he had looked at the temple earlier, a feeling of something old amidst the spirits, but now it was stronger, and he recognized it as the presence of something—someone—like him. He was used to feeling the spirits of others, but they never felt him. Whatever this was, however, could feel him just as much as he felt it._

_The Child looked up, regarding the rest of the cave. The shaft of light did little to illuminate anything beyond the strange seal, and the rest of the cave was only barely visible if at all. He turned, searching the cave for the source of this new presence, and found it._

_Shining like hot coals, two yellow eyes regarded him from the deepest, blackest corner of the cave. The Child stared back; he knew in the back of his mind it was all a dream, so he searched outwards with his spirit, seeking to understand the strange specter._

_His spirit met a darkness, not unlike the one that beckoned to him when he was afraid, but ten times more powerful. Surprised, he was quick to pull away, but not before a voice like the approaching shadow of night spoke out:_

**_At last!_ **

The Child jerked awake, and went very still, momentarily unsure of where he was. For one instant, he was sure he was sealed away in the darkness of his pram, until a rumbling sound off to his right broke the illusion.

Startled, the Child turned towards the strange sound, and saw his father asleep next to him. With each intake of breath, his father made the low rumbling sound, and he remembered. His father often did this when he slept, and though it had taken some time to get used to, he now took comfort in the funny sound.

The Child squinted at his father, faint traces of the dream resurfacing. Normally his dreams were vivid, but not this time. All he could recall was being grabbed and…yellow eyes.

The image of the eyes made something swell in him, an odd fear mixed with curiosity. However, he swiftly turned his thoughts away; right now, all he wanted was his father.

He stood and waddled to his father, stepping over one arm and grabbing onto his undershirt gently. As he predicted, the soft movement was enough to wake his father, and the low rumblings cut off sharply.

“Kid?” Din mumbled, raising his head slightly.

The Child scrambled onto his chest, curling himself into a tight ball. He brought a hand to rest upon the kid’s back; this happened once every few cycles, and sometimes he was more upset than others.

“Did you dream?”

The Child let out a tiny chirp, relishing in the warmth of his father’s hold.

“It’s okay,” Din said, grabbing at the kid’s blanket and repositioning it around the small body.

Soon, the Child was asleep again, and he dreamed no more that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I started writing it, didn't like it, then deleted it and started over. Anyway, here is chapter 2! There's probably going to be four or five chapters so so y'all are aware.
> 
> By the way, I have not mentioned it before, but I have a tumblr sideblog dedicated to the Mandalorian and other things under yatzstar! If you want to talk to me outside comments please shoot me an ask/message there!

The next morning, Din was slowly formulating a plan.

“We’re going to learn more about the Ysanna before we do anything,” Din told the Child over the meager breakfast of rations. “The girl last night has never encountered one, but there has to be someone who has.”

The Child gurgled and stuffed another piece of ration bar into his mouth.

Din gave the kid a half-smile. It seemed constant nightmares did little to dampen his joyful demeanor, but it was still troubling. He wished nothing more than to help the kid, but he had no way of knowing what the dreams were about. However, if he had to guess, he figured it was likely something to do with his long life before he was saved.

“We’ll probably still be attacked anyway,” Din grunted, “but they won’t be expecting us from a different direction.”

The Child giggled, a piece of ration bar lifting from his palm by his sorcery, floating towards Din’s face. Humoring him, the man waited until the piece was a suitable distance away from his mouth then leaned forward, plucking it from the air with his mouth.

The kid shrieked with delight, nearly tipping himself off the crate that was his chair. Din leaned over, snagging the oversized tunic with one finger and steadying him.

“We need to work on your balance,” he muttered.

The Child chortled, happily oblivious to his father’s plight.

Twenty minutes later, they struck out towards Knossa. This time, Din let the Child walk, slowing his pace so they walked side by side. There wasn’t much too look at, as smooth rock stretched around them for a good distance, but Din was secretly glad of it. There was nothing potentially dangerous the Child could put in his mouth.

The Child hoped they would go to the strange, rundown building he and his father had seen the day before. He was curious as to the strange presences that lingered there, and he briefly wondered at a half-memory of yellow eyes. He was not quite sure if what he remembered was real or merely a dream, but he hoped to find out.

It was a long walk, and eventually the Child’s legs grew tired. He tugged at his father’s pantleg, and the helmet turned to him with a faint air of amusement.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

The Child tugged again, making his request known. His feet hurt from walking on the stone.

“Alright, I get it.” His father picked him up and placed him in his sling. He relaxed, leaning against his father’s side, and soon he slipped into a doze.

He dreamed, but this time there were no yellow eyes. Instead there was a bird, round and fluffy with a long tail soaring through the sky. Its song drifted to his ears, and he wanted to get closer to hear better. He reached out, and he swore he almost heard words in the gentle song—

The Child jerked awake with a surprised squeak as something slammed somewhere. He looked around wildly, momentarily lost.

“Sorry, _ad’ika_.” His father’s voice drifted down, and a hand brushed his head. “That door was louder than I thought.”

The Child relaxed. His father was here, which meant it was alright. He looked out from beneath the cloak and saw they were in the same cantina they were yesterday.

“Hey, Nameless!”

Din turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and saw Kasa leaning over the bar.

“So I assume you haven’t tried the ruins yet?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, stepping closer to the bar. “I need more information on the Ysanna before I do.”

Kasa shrugged. “I told you everything I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know anyone else who might have more information?”

She was silent for a moment before she replied. “There’s a farmer who lives on the west edge of the settlement in the forest. She’s also the settlement’s doctor, and I think she might have had some run-ins with them in the past.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Din sighed. “Me too.”

Din set out towards the west, in the direction of the ruins, and with every step the old building loomed larger, partially obscured by the forest that seemed to be a barrier from the settlement. Eventually, the buildings became sparse and trees became more frequent. The stone road turned to dirt, and it started to become hilly.

Eventually, he saw a small house in the distance, surrounded by small fields of various crops. As he drew near, he caught sight of a small figure working in one of the fields, and made a conscious effort to make his approach loud so as not to surprise her.

Eventually the woman turned, catching sight of him. Her long, dark braid fell over her shoulder as she straightened, revealing a pointed ear. She looked close to human aside from the ears, but was considerably shorter. Despite her height, she was lithe and strong in a way that reminded him of Cara Dune.

“I figured you might be coming,” she called.

Din stopped just short of the field she stood in. “You heard of me?”

She nodded, looking him over with a critical eye. Her face was neither youthful nor old, hanging somewhere in between with the air of someone who had lived long enough to perceive a potential threat when she saw one.

“We don’t get much excitement around here,” she said, stooping to wrench a weed from the rocky soil. “When we do get visitors, word travels fast, though I thought they made up the part about you being a Mandalorian.”

“It was true,” he said drily.

She snorted, tossing the weed beyond the rows of tilled earth. “I also heard you want to go to the ruins.”

“Yes.”

She returned her gaze to him, and now it was sharp and skeptical, dark with distrust. “Why?”

Din sighed. It wouldn’t surprise him if many had come this way before in search of treasure, and didn’t care about the tribe who protected the ruins.

“Information,” he said at last.

She barked a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Treasure hunters come looking for loot and all they do is disturb the peace.”

“All I want is information.” Din pushed aside his cloak to reveal the Child, who squinted at the sudden light. “The kid…he has these powers that I don’t understand, and these ruins might be able to give me some answer.”

The distrust on her face faded slightly, and she stepped closer, eyeing the Child. “I heard you had a kid, but I thought that was made up too.”

“No.” The Child tugged at his arm, and he lifted him from the sling, cradling him in one arm.

“Powers, you say?”

“Yes. He can move things without touching them, and stop things in midair.”

Both of them looked at the Child, who smiled back, happy to be the center of attention for the moment.

After a long moment, the woman sighed and jerked her head towards the house. “Come on.”

Din dipped his head in thanks and followed after her, careful not to step on any of the sprouting crops.

“It’s a nice day, so I’m not gonna waste it inside,” she said, stopping outside the door. “Go sit in the garden and I’ll get you a drink.”

“Get a drink for the little one. I’ll go without.”

She shrugged. “Alright.”

Din stepped around to the side of the house, finding a well-manicured garden surrounded bursting with bright flowers and a couple of small trees. The Child squealed at the sight of the colors, wiggling frantically and reaching towards the blossoms.

“Alright,” Din said, setting the Child down, “but don’t eat anything. Got it?”

The Child babbled and waddled off towards a large red orchid of some sort. Din huffed and took a seat at the small table in the midst of the flora, hoping none of the blooms were poisonous.

The woman came into the garden, bearing two wooden cups. She went to the Child and handed him one, her countenance softening slightly as he took the cup with a huge grin.

“It’s a berry juice,” she explained, noting the dubious tilt of Din’s helmet. “I normally mix it with medicines to make them taste better.”

Din nodded. “He’ll take anything that isn’t a ration bar.”

“I’m Itala,” she said, taking the seat across from him, “but I’ve heard Mandalorians are not known for sharing their names.”

“No,” Din said, “especially not now.”

Itala nodded with some semblance of understanding. “So you want to get into the ruins?”

“Yes.” Din’s eyes instinctively turned to the crumbling building looming high above them on the mountain. “This is the first lead I’ve had on sorcerers like…like him.”

Both of them looked at the Child, who was guzzling the juice with gusto.

“I’ve heard stories of ones like him,” Itala said. “What information are you looking for?”

“Anything,” he said. “I’m in the dark right now.”

“And I assume you’ve been told about the Ysanna?”

“Yes. That’s why I came to you. I’ve been told you’ve had contact with them.”

Itala took a swig of her juice. “You heard correctly.”

“I was told they’re not deadly, but I need to make sure…” Din trailed off, glancing at the Child.

“They haven’t killed any of the idiots who have tried to loot the place.” She snorted. “They could’ve killed me, but they didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, situating herself more comfortably in her chair. “When I first came to Ossus, I avoided people at first, which meant no one told me about the Ysanna. Like anyone, I was curious about the ruins, so I tried to go see them. They came out of the trees, and I thought they would shoot me, but they escorted me out of their territory and left me alone.”

“Where is their territory?” Din asked.

Itala pointed in the direction of the ruins. “You see that stream?”

Din looked in the direction she indicated, and beyond the garden wall, a little ways down a hill, he saw a small stream burbling right where the forest started to get dense and slope steeply uphill. “Yes.”

“That is the barrier of their territory,” she said. “They do not come down this far often, but when you cross over they will find you eventually.”

“Do you interact with them often?”

A knowing smile worked its way onto her face. “We have…a partnership of sorts. They figured out I’m a doctor, so in the inevitability one of them gets sick or hurt, they come to me for help. In exchange, they help…subdue any looter who gets too pushy with his blaster. They also helped me put this”—she gestured at the house and garden—“together into some semblance of a home.”

“Would you be willing to explain to them that I don’t want to loot the ruins?”

“I knew you would ask that eventually,” she said, “and no, I can’t. I haven’t met an Ysanna that speaks Basic, and I know barely a word of Ysannan. We communicate by trust, nothing more.”

Din sighed, slumping back in his chair.

“If you want to get into those ruins, you will have to fight them, Mandalorian. Normally I tell those who come here to not even try, but you seem like a good man who’s trying to make a better life for his kid.”

“If I go down, will they hurt him?” he asked, nodding his head towards the Child, who had finished his juice and was now toddling amongst the flowers.

“No. They might sedate him like everyone else, but both you and him will end up back here on the other side of the stream.”

“What happens when I enter the ruins?”

Itala’s expression dropped into a frown. “That…I am not sure of. As far as I know no one has managed to get there, but I haven’t been here that long in the grand scheme of things. From what I understand, they don’t even enter the ruins themselves.”

“They don’t?” Din queried. “Why would they guard something so religiously if they don’t even go inside?”

Itala shrugged. “A sense of tradition, a sense of preserving the old ways maybe.”

Din was silent. He understood the need to preserve a way of life.

“If you’re going to do this, I only have one request for you, Mandalorian.”

“Yes?”

“Do not kill them,” she said. “They may be primitive by Galactic standards, but they are people just as much as we are, and they’re trying to protect something important to them.”

“I understand, and I will do my best,” Din said. “But if it comes down to the kid or them…” He trailed off, letting the implication speak for itself.

Itala glanced at the Child. “If you are worried for his safety, you can leave him with me.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I can’t. He’s the reason I’m going to this place, and he might be able to…sense things I can’t. I need to take him with me.”

She nodded. “Well, something tells me you’ve faced far more dangerous things than the Ysanna.”

The Child heard his father talking to the nice lady who gave him juice, but he did not care. He did not understand their words, and there were too many pretty flowers to look at. He couldn’t recall seeing a more colorful array, and wandered amongst the blooms. The air was filled with their sweet fragrance, and he sneezed a couple of times when he stuck his nose too close.

He also saw the big, old building in the forest on the mountain. Now that it was closer, it was far bigger than he had first imagined, and the strange presence he felt was stronger. He wanted to know more, and he hoped his father would take him there, if not today then tomorrow.

He stopped under one of the trees in the garden, looking up at the building, the top barely visible beyond the treeline. Curious, he reached out with his spirit, searching for the old presence. It was there, easier to find now, and on the edges he felt something more, a darkness that was vaguely familiar, almost like he had dreamed about it the night before—

The Child’s search was interrupted by a new sound in the real world. It was birdsong, falling down on him from above. Surprised, he looked up, and saw a bird sitting on a low limb of the tree he stood beneath. It was the same bird he had seen in his dream on the way to the town, and when he realized this he smiled.

The bird seemed to smile back at him, its long tail hanging down from the branch. It twittered at him, and the Child heard words in the song, feeling them in his spirit.

_Do not hate your enemies, my child_ , said the bird. _Instead, have pity on those whose greed is so great that they would willingly tear a clan apart._

These words were not like the words his father and many others used. He did not always understand those, in fact he rarely did, but the bird’s song he felt and understood. They filled him with a warm feeling, a pull towards a Light that he had not felt in a while.

_Be wise, dear one_ , the bird sang. _You must let go of your fears._

The Child squinted at the bird. Its voice was familiar to him, but he could not place where he had heard it before.

“What are you looking at?”

The Child turned and saw his father approaching. He pointed upwards, wanting to show him the bird, but when he looked back, the branch was empty.

Din looked at where the kid pointed, but saw nothing. “What is it?”

The Child frowned at the bird’s sudden disappearance, but set aside his confusion as his father picked him up.

Itala squinted at the two suns from her seat. “It’s afternoon now. You should probably stay the night here before going up the mountain.”

“I think—”

“By the time you reach the ruins it will likely be close to twilight,” she interrupted. “Those ruins have lain untouched for centuries. It would be foolish to search them without daylight, especially not with a child, nor potentially deal with the Ysanna on return.”

She had a point. If this was before the Child came into his life, he would have gone in without a second thought. Now he had to do what was safest, which was to wait for the fullest amount of daylight, even though it would make him easier to spot amidst the trees.

“At least let me pay you,” he said.

She waved away his offer. “I have no need of money. I have a spare room where you and the child can stay.”

“Thank you,” he replied, resigning himself to the fact that he was under her hospitality.

Half an hour later, they were situated comfortably in Itala’s spare room. It was very clean as befit a room that housed sick patients more often than not, and Din hesitated to place the Child on the pristine sheets of the single bed, but finally gave in.

Din started his routine weapon checks, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress was cushy and far softer than the hard surfaces he was used to; it was almost too comfortable for his tastes. The Child, however, seemed to have no such reservations. He ran back and forth across the bed, his tiny form easily bouncing along on the soft, springy surface. He squealed with delight as he bounced and tumbled over and over again, never having encountered such a surface before.

Din smiled a little under the helmet as the kid stumbled into his back before propelling himself across the mattress again. “Be careful, womp rat.”

A soft knock came at the door and Din looked up, setting aside his Amban rifle. “Come in.”

The door swung open and Itala entered, bearing two plates of steaming food and two cups of drink. “You will need strength for your search tomorrow, and I figured you were hungry.”

“I—thank you.” Din ignored the way his mouth watered at the anticipation of a hot meal.

“Nerf-meat, kibla greens, and bread,” she said, setting the plates on the table near the bed. “I hope it’s satisfactory.”

“That’s more than enough,” Din said, hoping his tone conveyed his gratefulness.

Itala smiled a little as the Child started waddling towards the plates, hands outstretched. “I assume you’ll want privacy to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

She dipped her head knowingly. “Very well. I’ll see you at first light, then.”

Din nodded in response as she left, shutting the door behind her. When he looked back, the Child was already tearing into a portion of nerf-meat.

“That does look good,” he said. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted the helmet from his head and set it next to him. The Child gurgled happily around his food at the sight of his face. “Enjoy it while you can. I’m only unmasking while eating.”

The Child continued eating, oblivious to his words, kicking his little feet off the edge whilst reaching for more food. Din took the plate that had not been claimed as the smell of hot food hit his nose, he needed no further bidding. He dug in with almost the same ferocity as the kid.

Eventually, the Child had his fill, and he slumped back against the pillow with a contented chirp. Din looked over as he was finishing off his own meal, and saw the kid’s drowsy expression.

“Sleep, ad’ika,” he said. “We’ll have an early start tomorrow.”

The Child mumbled, glancing at the window. The suns were still up, but they would fall behind the mountains soon.

“Sleep,” Din repeated. “We’re leaving at dawn, and we’ll need as much energy as possible.”

The Child frowned. The spirit of the old place hung heavy in his mind, beckoning to him, but his father’s spirit was closer. Though his father was not like him, and could not sense and make use of the spirits around them, his father’s warmth surrounded him even so. He let his father’s love surround him, and the call of the building on the mountain was quieted.

But still, he dreamed.

_It started the same. His father lay on the ground, unmoving, and the hands of evil ones reached for him. He screamed, full of fear, but then a new thought came into his mind._

_He could stop them._

_Turning towards the evil ones that were almost upon him, their faces formless yet terrible, he stretched forth a hand and willed them to stop. He wanted them to go away…_ forever. _His fear crumbled into anger, and the dark feeling at the edge of his mind was a little stronger._

_The dream turned, and suddenly he stood in the cave he had been in the night before. The star-hilted sword where he stood was flooded in light, but nothing else. This time, he did not have to search for the darkness he felt, because this time that same pair of yellow eyes hovered just outside the ring of light._

**_Child,_ ** _said the same black voice that had spoken to him the night before, **you desire the power to destroy those you fear.**_

_The Child stared at the yellow gaze. It was tempting to give into his fear._

**_I can give you what you want._ **

_The Child looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers. Yes, perhaps…_

**_Come to me._ **

****

The Child woke. The dream was faint, but the words hung in the air like a fog.

**_Come to me._ **

His father lay beside him on the bed, stripped of all armor besides his helmet, and he was asleep. The Child scooted closer, nestling against his father’s chest and letting his warmth comfort him.

The room was dark. It was nighttime, but somewhere outside the Child heard soft strains of a sweet birdsong.

_Do not be afraid._

And so he slept again, dreamless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting into the good stuff :D

The next time the Child woke, it was because his father was shaking him gently.

“Come on, _ad’ika_ ,” Din murmured. “We have to go soon.”

Itala brought them a quick but hearty breakfast of fruits, which the Child dove into. Din barely had time to shove some into his mouth as he prepped his equipment.

The dilemma he faced was the Child. He could keep him in the sling, but if he got attacked from behind, he would be the first to be hit. Eventually he settled on carrying the kid with one hand; he had fought while carrying him and come out the victor before.

When he exited the room, Itala was waiting for him.

“I will go with you as far as the stream,” she said.

The suns had not yet risen, the forest bathed in the odd predawn half-light, and the birds were just beginning to sing the song of the morning. As they went down to the stream, Din eyed the ruins. They loomed above on the mountain, dark and obscure, and for the first time since they arrived on Ossus, he felt an inkling of uncertainty. He was about to walk into the territory of sorcerers, and he realized he had no idea what to expect.

They stopped just short of the burbling stream, and Itala turned to them.

“I hope to see you back here, conscious,” she said.

Din nodded, tearing his eyes away from the ruins momentarily. “I’ll be back by nightfall if all goes well.”

“You’re welcome to stay another night. I’m interested to know what you see up there.” 

“Me too.”

“Remember, they are not your enemies. They are only trying to protect what they value.”

Din dipped his head in acknowledgement, tightened his grip on the Child, and stepped into the stream. It only took three steps, and he stood in Ysanna territory.

He turned slightly to look at Itala, and she nodded encouragingly. He started up the hill, and soon the dark forest swallowed them entirely.

It was slow going. The terrain was rocky and uneven, difficult to navigate in the barely-there light. He was on high alert, constantly searching for signs of movement in the thick underbrush using the thermal scanner in his helmet. It was difficult to avoid making noise, so he kept his steps slow and deliberate, hoping not to attract any attention too early.

The Child was quiet, leaning against his father’s chestplate. His father was tense, uncertainty rolling off him, and he wasn’t sure why. But his father had him, so he tried not to concern himself with whatever was bothering him.

He turned his mind towards the building on the mountain. With every step, that old presence grew nearer and stronger, filling his spirit. This time, he remembered the black voice that had spoken to him the night before, but he was unsure if that was what waited for him. The spirit of the ruins was old, but it was not dark.

Finally, the suns began to peek over the mountains, bathing everything in rosy light. The shadows of nighttime fell away, and the ambience of the forest picked up considerably.

As morning came upon them, Din found himself even more on edge. The natural sounds of birds and wildlife would make it harder to pick out possible approaching enemies, and though the darkness was gone, there were still plenty of places for those well-acclimated to forest life to hide. He kept checking all around as he ascended, but his sensors were not picking up anything.

They continued upwards for some time, supposedly alone. It wasn’t until the ruins were finally visible through the trees ahead that the Child felt something strange, something new. It was the presence of life forms like him who felt the spirits around them, and they were closing in rapidly. He looked up at his father and smacked his chestplate, wondering if he knew others were coming.

Din noticed the Child’s change in demeanor and stopped walking, his hand straying towards his blaster. His eyes darted around, watching the thick foliage, but he could see nothing…

There! His sensors picked up a faint heat signature tucked away behind the trees off to his left, and in the same instant he caught a flitting shadow off to his right.

Din fought down the urge to pull his blaster and start firing. He could pinpoint his watchers just enough to get a good hit in, but he remembered Itala’s plea. Shifting the Child closer against his chestplate, ensuring he was almost entirely covered by one vambrace, he waited.

Within moments, more heat signatures popped up, just barely visible through the foliage, and his audio receptors picked up the faintest trace of footsteps over leaves, so quiet that the human ear would not be able to hear unaided. They were drawing in quickly, and a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that they were all around him.

As they drew near, it seemed as though the underbrush itself had come alive. The foliage morphed into humanoid figures approaching him, dressed in clothes and armor dyed mottled shades of green, brown, and gray to match the forest and the mountain. Even their faces were covered, each one bearing a camouflaged but unique mask.

The Ysanna.

A quick look around told Din there were twenty in all, and each one carried a spear, also camouflaged. Small blasters rested at their hips, primitive but likely deadly at close range.

One of the Ysanna stepped forward and barked something in a language Din did not understand. However, when he waved his spear in the direction they had come, the message was obvious.

He knew trying to reason with them was pointless, but he would try anyway. “Look, I’m not here to steal from the ruins. I just need to see if there’s any information in there.”

The Ysanna called the same warning again, and Din knew his words likely had no effect.

The Child squinted at the funny tree-people around them. All of them knew the spirits like him, and he reached out curiously. Their spirits were weak but guarded and cautious, and it was very strange to him.

Din watched, instantly on alert as all the Ysanna’s postures suddenly stiffened. His hand darted down to his blaster, unsure if they were about to attack.

One of the Ysanna behind him shouted something, and another to his left gave what sounded like a confirmation. The one that had first addressed Din seemed to be looking him over judging by the movements of the mask, and he suddenly pointed straight at the Child in his arms.

“ _Yacris!_ ” he cried.

Din’s blaster was out, pointing straight at the Ysanna in front of him. To his horror, they didn’t seem to care, and all of them were looking at the Child.

“ _Yacris! Yacris!_ ” All the others took up the cry, and to Din their tones almost sounded…afraid. He glanced down at the Child, who was staring at the Ysanna intently. He didn’t understand, but it likely had something to do with sorcery.

The Child knew the funny tree-people had felt him just as he felt them, but now their spirits were full of fear. It seemed to him the fear was of the ruins, but this confused him. Did the ruins not call to them as it did to him?

The lead Ysanna barked a word, and suddenly twenty spears were pointed at Din. The lead Ysanna jabbed his spear back down the mountain, and this time the demand had force behind it.

_Leave, or we will make you._

Din paused. They were focused on the Child, and he shifted him into a more protective hold, not knowing their intent. He turned, making as if he were getting ready to go back down the mountain, but then whirled and bolted towards the lead Ysanna. Shoving his spear aside, Din’s shoulder crashed into his chest, bowling him over.

Din started sprinting up the mountain, the surprised shrieks of the Ysanna adding speed to his steps. He once dared to look back, and saw them just barely visible, leaping through the trees with grace that seemed unnatural as they pursued him. They were gaining, far more agile in the forest than he was, so he turned his gaze forward, determined.

Ahead of him, he spotted an ancient set of steps, barely visible and overgrown with weeds. They led up, up into the ruins, and Din knew they had to reach it. He sped up, his breath rasping in his throat as he leapt over rocks and trees in his urgency.

He was only a hundred yards from the steps when a spear whistled through the air, just barely missing him and clattering against a tree. It turned his attention just long enough for his foot to catch on a rock, and he went crashing to ground, turning himself so he landed on his side, the Child clutched to his chest.

He made to scramble upright, but the fleeting setback was enough for the Ysanna. They were upon him, and though he struggled fiercely, there were too many. Hands grabbed at legs, his feet, his arms, pinning him to the ground. He tried to activate his flamethrower to no avail. For an instant he feared for the Child, wondering if Itala had been wrong about their harmlessness.

Then suddenly the Ysanna were no longer holding him but flying through the air away from him as though struck by some great force. They crashed into the trees and fell to the ground, and Din finally had the presence of mind to look at the Child. Sure enough, both arms were still outstretched, having used his sorcery to push them away.

Once again Din found himself grateful for the Child’s strange powers, but he did not have the time to voice it. He stumbled to his feet and summoned the strength to sprint the remaining distance to the steps. As soon as his boot hit the first stone, he heard the Ysanna cry out in dismay behind him. Though he felt guilty for entering what they likely considered sacred, he did not look back, taking the steps two at a time.

Din made it to the top, and only then did he look back, hearing no sound of pursuit. Below in the trees he could just barely make out the movements of the Ysanna. Itala had been right; they stopped where the ruins started, and did not follow him.

Relieved, he turned to inspect the ruins. The landing he stood upon led through a crumbling archway into what was once likely a beautiful courtyard that overlooked the forest below and the plains beyond it. Just as the stairs were, the stones were barely there, having been overtaken by moss and weeds. Beyond the courtyard lay the main building, a great square structure embellished with pillars and carvings of things Din did not understand, interspersed by windows that were either broken or covered by the vines that had captured the building almost entirely. The entryway lay open to them across the courtyard save for a few fallen rocks, yawning like the great dark maw of some beast.

“You alright?” Din asked, giving the Child a quick once over. Despite the great amount of sorcery he had just used, he seemed no worse for wear.

The Child smiled a little, as if to reassure him.

“Well,” he said, staring at the black doorway, “you ready?”

The Child murmured. The spirits were heavy now, heavier than he had ever felt before.

Din approached the dark entrance, blaster in hand just in case. Carefully, he stepped over the rocks and entered the ruins of the _je’dai_.

As soon as his father stepped through the threshold, the Child heard that black voice call to him, but this time it was not a dream. It was real and in his mind.

**_Come to me._ **

As Din’s eyes adjusted to the new light, he realized the interior was not as dark as he first suspected. Light poured in from many cracks and holes in the ceiling, creating bright shafts amidst the dust motes that swirled about in the drafts and illuminating a large entry hall of some sort. He also realized that the ruins were older than he had expected, far older. He had come with the expectation of perhaps a couple of centuries, but when he spied remnants of technology littered amidst the rocks and dust on the floor, it was unrecognizable to him.

His first priority was to case the place and make sure no native creatures had taken up residence and would take offense to their presence. He was met with many doorways on both sides of the hall and at the other end, and he was suddenly aware of how loudly his boots were scraping across the old stones as he walked to each one. The ruins were quiet, almost eerily so, save for the occasional whistle of the breeze through a crack.

In each room, he was greeted with remnants of old furniture rusted and crumbling with time. Most notably there were many shelves, some empty and some still bearing books and what appeared to be a strange variant of datapads. He stepped further into one of the rooms, eyeing the ancient materials.

Holstering his blaster, he used his free hand to grab one of the books on the shelf. The spine crackled ominously as he opened it, and a puff of dust rose from the cracked and yellowed pages.

The Child, who had been quiet up until this point, sneezed loudly as he inhaled the dust.

Din paused as the sound echoed through the quiet space. If there were any creatures lurking in the ruins, they would now know of their presence. However, after several seconds ticked by, there was no new sound and his sensors picked up nothing.

“Sorry, _ad’ika_ ,” he whispered, turning his attention back to the book. It was written in a language he did not understand, though he picked up a letter here and there. It seemed to be some old form of Basic, though he could not make out any words for sure amidst faded ink.

Din found himself wonder just how old this place was. There were many books, a rarity in this day and age, and what datapads he did see were of a make he did not recognize. All the books were brittle, just barely clinging together, and as he perused the shelves, some of them exposed to a hole in the ceiling had rotted away into remnants of binding.

“This place is old,” he told the Child. “Older than even you.”

The Child heard his father’s voice but did not reply. He was too preoccupied with the spirits, which now surrounded him like a fog. There was the spirit of the ruins, which was old but calm, and beneath that lay something else, something darker that he had felt in his dreams the past two nights. The more he reached out, the more the dark thing beckoned to him, now stronger more than ever.

**_Come to me._ **

Din tested one of the datapads, hitting all the buttons he saw, but nothing happened. Upon opening the back, he saw the circuits were fried. After trying a few more to no avail, he returned to the main hallway and headed of the doorway at the far end. It was a manual door left ajar, and as he stepped through he was met with a huge circular room with a domed ceiling, several more hallways branching off in every direction.

Din sighed, taking in the grandeur of the old architecture, the domed ceiling adorned with intricate latticework forming grand patterns, interrupted by the occasional hole. He now realized that the ruins he saw on the outside was only a small part of the picture; far more had been built back into the mountain, leaving him a great deal more to go through than he had first anticipated.

The Child shifted in his arms, letting out a small babble. Din looked down at him and saw him reaching out a hand towards the floor. His gaze followed his outstretched hand, noticing for the first time the design he stood upon. Though weather had faded what was likely vibrant colors, the entire floor was one giant seal, the picture of a star-hilted blade flanked by wings.

The Child squirmed, clearly wanting to get down. Din hesitated, fearing he might hurt himself on the debris that littered the area, but the kid persisted.

“Alright,” he said, lowering the Child to the ground, “but be careful and don’t wander off.”

The Child only went a little ways into the room, seemingly entranced by the seal on the ground. The pause made Din realize how thirsty he was after his trek up the mountain and the spat with the Ysanna, so he took out his canteen, shifting his helmet up just enough to pour water into his mouth.

“You want some?” he called to the kid.

The Child perked an ear at his voice but did not turn, crouching down to trace a finger across the point of the star on the sword. Din walked over to him, studying the seal. He did not recognize it, but the Child may have.

“Do you know this?” he asked.

The Child looked up at him and smiled, babbling something.

“That’s helpful.” Din looked around at each of the hallways. “Well, we have to start somewhere. Come on.”

The Child complained as his father lifted him from the floor, carrying him off into one of the hallways. He knew that picture on the floor; he had seen it in his dreams, but smaller and in a cave.

**_Come to me._ **

Din was quick to discern that all the hallways branching off from the circular room connected further down through a long, curved corridor boasting of many rooms, some which only had dusty furniture, and some which had books. He found a particularly large stack in one room, so he set the Child on the floor and gave him a piece of fruit Itala had provided to keep him occupied while he searched through the old texts.

The Child nibbled on the fruit, hanging onto his father’s pantleg with his free hand as he took in the room they were in. On one wall a shattered window let in a great deal of light, illuminating the frayed remnants of what were once likely pretty tapestries on the wall. Everything, though decayed by time, seemed peaceful. He could feel that this place had once been good, but still…

**_Come to me._ **

_Dear one._

The Child turned towards the window, suddenly hearing that warm voice that he had heard yesterday call to him. The bird perched on the windowsill, a breeze ruffling its feathers gently. It looked at him, and the Child could see love in its eyes.

 _Dear one, hate is easy, but it will only lead to suffering,_ said the bird. _Forgiveness is hard, but it will give you freedom._

The Child looked up at his father, but he was still going through old books. He tugged on his pantleg, wanting him to see the bird, but when he looked back at the window, it was empty.

“What is it?” His father’s helmet turned towards the empty window.

The Child frowned. His father did not know the spirits, and sometimes it was frustrating.

Din skimmed through every book that didn’t fall apart in his hands, but everything was written in the same old language he did not know. Increasingly frustrated, he and the Child bounced from room to room, but he still had no luck for quite a while.

Eventually, he found a doorway that led out into a small courtyard wedged between the building and the mountain. On both the left and the right he could see the treetops of the forest stretching out beyond, and on the opposite end of the yard another entrance greeted him, but it was different from before. It was a rough-hewn staircase that went downwards, carved into the very stone of the mountain, and it looked like somewhere something important would be stored.

The moment the Child laid eyes on the staircase, he knew that was where he had to go. The black voice called to him, suddenly far louder than it had ever been before.

**_COME TO ME._ **

Din grunted, setting the Child down. “This is going to be our last stop. If I can’t find anything worthwhile in there, we’re leaving.”

The Child heard his father’s voice, but it was as though it were far away. The dark spirit was powerful around him, and suddenly all his fears resurfaced, as did the anger he felt. Even then, that dark something beyond anger beckoned to him, waiting for him to give in.

**_I can give you what you want._ **

The Child stared at the doorway. Though the bright light of day fell upon them, it seemed the opening reflected no light, full of inky blackness. But yet it called to him, offering an answer to the fear that plagued him.

Din turned, reaching for the canteen on his belt.

The Child took a step towards the door, then another.

**_Come to me._ **

Another, and another.

Din pushed his helmet up, taking a drought of water.

The door was close now, pulling him in.

Din looked back at the Child, ready to offer him a drink, and saw he was almost to the door. Slightly annoyed at the Child’s wandering nature, he started after him. “ _Ad’ika,_ I told you not to—”

The Child passed over the threshold. The sunlight died away, and he was enveloped by the blackness, his steps only led by the calling voice.

**_Come to me._ **

Din saw the Child step onto the stairs, but what happened after that he was not sure of. Something rushed upon him, something strange and unnatural to him, and he only remembered a feeling of weightlessness as he fell into unconsciousness.

The Child descended in darkness, but still that gentle birdsong whispered to him, unhindered by the shadows:

_Be wise, dear one._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be one giant chapter, but I decided to separate it into two parts.

Din slowly became aware of voices near him. They were coming from above him, chattering fast and carrying a worried tone. As he swam towards consciousness, he started to feel pain radiating from his back and through all his limbs. The dizzying pull of unconsciousness threatened to overtake him again, regardless of the strange voices going on above him. Only when he felt hands touch the underside of his helmet did he lurch into full wakefulness, opening his eyes and grabbing at the offending arms.

Several Ysanna crouched over him, masked faces staring down at him. The one that had grabbed his helmet yelped in surprise when he came awake, in turn startling his companions. He grappled for his blaster, and all the Ysanna stumbled back.

Instinctively, Din pushed himself backwards. As the Ysanna backed up, he saw there were far more than just the several that were crouching over him. They all lowered their spears in response to the appearance of his blaster, all save for one.

“There is no need for violence. Outsider, lower your blaster.”

In his addled state, Din wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. He kept his blaster trained on the Ysanna, taking stock of the situation. There were now many more than the ones who had attacked him earlier, all watching through camouflaged masks. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he saw the steps of the ruins not far from him, the building towering above.

How did he get out here?

The one Ysanna not holding a weapon called a command. The others hesitated, but lowered their spears.

“Outsider, my people will not attack you. Lower your weapon.”

This time Din was sure he had heard it. He slowly lowered his blaster, his head throbbed as he opened his mouth, uttering the only words he could think of: “You’re…you’re speaking Basic.”

“Yes.” The weaponless Ysanna stepped forwards, and Din saw his mask and clothes bore several ornamental beads, boasting of a higher status. “As Elder of the Ysanna, it is required of me to know the Language of Outsiders should the need arise. My people do not concern themselves with such things.”

Din shifted his position, unable to restrain a grunt of pain as his back twinged.

“Outsider,” said the Elder, “do you know what you have done by entering that place?”

“I’m sorry if it’s sacred to you,” Din muttered. “I just…needed information.”

“It is sacred to us, but your presence does not defile it.”

“Then why did your people try and attack me?”

“Not attack,” the Elder said gravely. “Warn.”

As Din’s thoughts returned to him, the absence of the Child struck him. He looked around wildly, ignoring the way his body cried out at the sudden movement, and saw no sign of the little one.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked, turning back to the Ysanna.

“Your child is the very reason we tried to warn you and stop you. He is _Yacris_ , strong with the Force, and my people felt the Darkness in the ruins calling to him.”

Every word only served to heighten Din’s mounting anxiety. “The Force? You mean sorcery?”

“It is not sorcery. The Force lies in all living things, the only some are sensitive to it. Your child is very strong in it, and the Darkness that has lain in the ruins has tempted him.”

Din lurched to his feet, liking the situation less and less. “So where is he?”

“He remains in the ruins. The Darkness thrust you out so as to tempt him to turn.”

Trying not to dwell on what the Elder’s words could mean, Din turned and started towards the steps, intent on retrieving the Child before something bad happened.

“Wait!” the Elder called.

Din kept walking, focused on the Child. He didn’t know what he had gotten them into, but the Elder’s words told him it was far more that what he had expected.

A shadow passed over his head, and suddenly the Elder was landing in front of him, blocking his path. Din reached for his blaster, but the Elder held up a placating hand.

“Please, Outsider, if you want any chance at getting your child back, you must listen to me. You must know, this is not something you can shoot your way out of.”

Din was tempted to shove him aside and keep going, but he remembered the strange feeling that had knocked him unconscious and apparently tossed him all the way out of the ruins. He forced himself to stay put, and nodded to the Elder.

“What do you know of the Force, Outsider?”

“Nothing, except the kid can move things. That’s why I came here, to learn more.”

The Elder nodded. “Yes, this was once a place of learning. Thousands of years ago this was a Jedi Library, but evil things were committed here, which led to its downfall. The Ysanna are descendants of the Jedi, and the Force flows through us, but not as strongly as your child. Sometimes it tempts us, so we keep others away for their own safety. No one has ever gotten through…until now.”

“What happens if the Darkness gets the kid?” Din forced himself to ask.

“Suffering,” the Elder said. “In the past powerful Jedi have turned away from the Light out of fear and anger, but it will always lead to suffering. Your child is strong but young, and the Darkness has tempted him greatly through fear.”

“Fear?” Din echoed.

“The Darkness tempts through the power to destroy enemies, those that cause fear. Does your child have much to be afraid of?”

A denial was on the edge of Din’s tongue, but he bit it back as he remembered the nightmares, the clinginess. The Child did not fear anything that _was_ , but what _might be_.

“Yes,” he said at last, and looked up at the ruins, Though they were bathed in sunlight, they suddenly seemed darker than night to him. “I’m not a sorcerer, not a _je’dai_ …” He swallowed, trying but failing to keep his voice from trembling over the next words. “I need to save him.”

“Perhaps you can,” said the Elder. “Your child is conflicted, but has not turned yet. The Darkness removed you because it knows you have the power to bring your child back.”

“How?”

“You must go and find him, remind him of your presence. The Darkness will try to stop you, but you must set your mind against it.”

“I…I don’t know how to do that.”

“You will know when you enter.” The Elder stepped aside, opening the path to the ruins once again. “If you set your mind against it, it will not be able to render you unconscious, but it will try to stop you. Your time is short. Go now.”

Din merely nodded, unable to find the words. Fear for the Child adding speed to his steps, he hurried the rest of the way to the ruins and up the stairs. He knew nothing of the Jedi sorcery, but he was bound and determined to keep dark forces away from his Child, whether it was Imps or dark spirits.

The moment he stepped into the old courtyard, he felt it. It was as though he were mentally pushing against a brick wall. Something was doing everything in its power to keep him from reentering the ruins, but he forced himself forward. Every step was a tremendous effort, only growing harder as he approached the doorway.

By the time he made it to the door, sweat was beading on his forehead. He reached out and grasped the doorframe, hauling himself through.

He was greeted with complete and utter blackness. The holes in the ceiling and the windows were gone, and when he turned back to the doorway, there was nothing, not even a glint of light to hint at the sunny day he had just come from.

Every hair on his body stood on end. The strange opposition in his mind was ten times stronger, and he knew that it _hated_ him. Though there was nothing to fire at, he drew his blaster, hoping for some sense of control as he stepped further into the gaping blackness.

“ _Ad’ika!_ ” he called.

As much as he hoped for it, there was no cry, no little figure waddling towards him, so he ventured further.

It seemed the very structure of the building was gone, warped by some dark sorcery. Though Din turned on his helmet light, he could see no walls, no ceiling, no floor, and the shadows only seemed to press further in around him as he went.

Then he started to see things. Horrid creatures several stories tall loomed at him suddenly, full of many eyes and teeth. With a startled yell he fired off several blasts, the bolts ripping through the creatures like smoke and dissipating them. One bolt ricocheted off something and hit him square in the chest, knocking him onto his back.

“ _Ad’ika!_ ” he called again, struggling to his feet.

A sense of dread settled over him as he traversed deeper. He was starting to fear he would not find his Child in time.

The shadows closed in, and the feeling of hatred and anger directed towards him increased with every step. His hand was starting to hurt from holding his blaster so tightly, but he realized the Ysanna Elder had been right. This was sorcery, not something he could shoot at.

A wild, uncontrollable feeling started to overtake him as he wandered aimlessly. His heart was in his throat, his hands shook, and he realized the feeling was panic. He had trained his entire life to not panic in any situation, but this was completely beyond his scope. There was nothing he could do to combat this Darkness and find his Child.

For the first time in a long time, he felt completely and utterly helpless.

A cold wind ripped through him, chilling him even through his armor. His light flickered and went out.

More creatures rose out of the void, and Din shot at them with a panicked yell. He fell to the nonexistent floor, the hatred pressing against his mind with debilitating force. The Child was out there somewhere, and he could not fail him, but he felt as though he could not move another step. Fear had paralyzed him, the power of the sorcery leaving him useless, helpless.

“Please,” he whispered, though he knew the Darkness would take his Child without care. He pressed his helmet against the floor, full of anger and despair.

A sound reached Din’s ears, breaking the previous eerie silence.

Birdsong.

He looked up and saw a convor standing near his arm. It shone like a star, and the shadows seemed to shy away from it.

The convor hopped closer to him and twittered sweetly, seeming to smile. The sight and sound immediately lifted the oppressive feeling in his mind, filling him with an inexplicable warmth.

“Can…can you help me find my Child?” he asked it. Normally he would feel foolish talking to an animal, but something told him the convor was more than that.

The convor twittered again, hopping forward into the darkness. The shadows did not enclose it, and it remained as bright as ever.

Din levered himself to his feet, eyeing the bird. It looked back at him, and for a fleeting instant he thought he heard words in its song.

_Follow me!_

His strength and determination renewed, he went after the convor as it took flight.

_I’m coming,_ ad’ika. _Don’t give in._


	5. Chapter 5

The Child descended.

The dark was unnatural, lacking shadow or depth, but the Child was not afraid. The voice led him on, guiding his steps and opening a path beneath his feet.

The Darkness showed him things, visions rising out of the shadows and into his mind’s eye.

**_You know the pain of things that were…_ **

He was sealed away in darkness, tormented by those that kept him for greed. They pulled at him, kicked him, starved him.

**_…things that are…_ **

The fear of being caught around every corner, the fear of being taken once more. Always watching, worrying, wondering when the hunters would finally catch up and take him away.

**_…and things that have yet to be._ **

Visions of things the Child did not yet know arose in his mind, experiences he had not had. Being strapped to a table, needles shining everywhere. He was full of pain and powerless to stop it as unforgiving, uncaring faces watched him. They were heedless of his plight, and his long years were spent in unloving isolation…

**_You are powerless now._ **

The visions faded, leaving the Child fearful of what might yet be.

**_What you possess now is a fraction of your might._ **

The Child went onward. The promise of power to destroy those who hurt or would hurt him tempted him greatly, feeding on the resentment and anger of his past.

**_Come to me, and I will give you the power._ **

The dark feelings boiled up within him, the encroaching darkness on the edge of his spirit coming in closer. However, he kept it at bay, a kernel of uncertainty remaining in his heart.

**_Give into your fear._ **

_Let go of your fear._

The silver birdsong called to him, and though he could see nothing in the void, it was always close by, warm and comforting. The darkness did nothing to hinder it, and it remained a gentle voice in his ear.

Eventually, the Child saw a glint of light. As he drew near, he recognized the cave from his dreams. A single shaft of light blazed upon the seal on the floor, and the rest of the cave was coated in inky blackness.

He shuffled forward, daring to step on the seal. Beyond the light, a figure rose up, its eyes yellow like twin flames. It stopped just beyond the Child’s little circle of light, and did not enter it. It was just like in his dreams, but the intensity of its gaze was far more powerful now that he was faced with it.

**_Child, do you know what this place is?_ **

The Child didn’t.

**_Once, an object of great power was housed here. A Dark Holocron._ **

A new vision crept into the Child’s mind. An object, a red pyramid, stood upon a pedestal, and he did not have to be there to know that it was full of power.

**_I stole it._ **

A man entered the vision, strong and dark with a brand upon his forehead. Though it was only a vision, the Child could not help but shrink back a little at the fire in his eyes. His hand landed upon the Dark Holocron, and the Child could almost feel the burst of energy that one action had.

**_Eventually, I died, but through my power my spirit remains. Because I stole the Holocron, my spirit has been tied here for thousands of years._ **

The visions died away, and the Child once again stood in the circle of light, face to face with the yellow eyes.

**_But with you, my power can live again._ **

The Child frowned. The darkness pulled at him, but that one unsure part of him remained, anchored by the sweet voice that still whispered.

**_Hate those who hurt you._ **

_Forgive those who hurt you._

Only when you fully give into the anger and hate you feel can your power be realized. If you do not, you will be weak.

He was faced with another vision, this time of himself trying to fight off his enemies to no avail.

**_Without me, you are nothing._ **

The Child shook his head, trying to free his mind of the images that played out, more horribly real than they had ever been before. Hands grabbed, fists fell, pain flashed.

He screamed, lashing out in anger at the visions. For too long he had been hurt, and for too long he had lived in fear of returning to that hurt. The spirits rushed forth at his command, grabbing at the visions and twisting them to nothing. He took a strange pleasure in hearing the visions cry out in pain, and the yellow eyes glowed brighter.

**_Yes!_ **

Din tore forward through the darkness, following the shining light that was the convor. Monsters rose up on all sides, trying to assail him, but he ignored them, knowing now that they were not real. The searing hatred he felt against him grew stronger with every step, but he set his eyes on the light before him and forced himself to continue.

The convor’s song led him, seeming to craft a path at his feet, and then he saw it: the stairs his Child had entered. Determined, he started downwards as the convor vanished, though its song remained, seeming to keep the darkness at bay just enough for him to continue.

“ _Ad’ika!_ ” he roared into the void, praying that his voice was heard.

The Child knew the blackest, darkest feeling that trumped fear and anger now. It was hate, and it reared its head in his mind as he was faced with the sight of his enemies.

**_Come to me._ **

From the dark spirit with the yellow eyes manifested something like a hand reaching out to him, its fingers stopping just short of the circle of light.

In that moment, full of fear and anger and almost-hate, the Child wanted to give in, the silver voice almost forgotten amidst the shadows. He reached out towards the shadowy hand, wanting to take it…

“ _Ad’ika!_ ”

The Child stilled, hearing the voice in the distance. He would know it anywhere: his father.

**_No!_** the Darkness thundered. **_He does not care for you! He will betray you in the end just like he did before._**

The Child barely heard, searching for his father’s spirit. How could he have forgotten the one he loved so much and who loved him in return? The dark spirit had made him forget, but now he remembered the original reason for his fear.

It was difficult to find through the strength of the Darkness’ spirit, but eventually he found it. It flickered like a weak flame amidst the shadows, barely there. His father’s thoughts were still there, storming into his own mind with startling intensity.

_Hope, fear, trembling._

One image hung in his father’s mind replaced by nothing else, and it was him. His father was afraid for him, and he could now feel the Darkness fighting against his father. It was doing everything in its power to keep him away, but his father would not be stopped.

The Child turned back to the Darkness, horrified by what he felt. The Darkness hated his father and was trying to keep him away. It was the very thing he had feared, now being meted out by the power he had sought as an ally.

_**He does not know your power**_ , the Darkness whispered. **_He is useless to you._**

The black thoughts the Child had felt dissipated, replaced by anger and fear towards the Darkness. It was trying to separate him from his father. He wanted to be rid of the dark presence in his mind, but it suddenly felt overpowering, overwhelming, and try as he might, it would not leave.

**_You are forsaken! the Darkness roared_** , its voice now like thunder in his mind. **_You cannot escape me now! You must give in to me, and maybe I will let the man you love live._**

The Child wailed, shaking his head, trying to rid his mind of the voice. He pulled his spirit away from the Darkness, and the sweet silver voice pierced through the terrible roar.

_Will you come to me my child?_

He fixed his mind on the warmth the voice gave, turning towards it in fearful desperation, which only served to enrage the Darkness more.

**_What have you done?_ **

The Darkness rose, huge and terrible, towering around the Child and threatening to engulf him. He screamed in terror, huddling on the floor and preparing for the worst.

Birdsong fell on him.

_I am here for you._

The Child caught a brief glimpse of wings in the light, and suddenly somebody was crouching over him. He dared to look up, expecting to see his father, but it was not. It was a man, but he shone with a Light that revealed he was something more than what he appeared to be.

The Man fixed his gaze on the towering Darkness, unafraid of its wrath. “This one is not yours. He has turned away from you.” His voice was the voice of the bird, but now ten times more powerful, and the Child understood they were somehow one and the same.

**_He is mine!_ **

“He never was,” said the Man, unshaken by the raging spirit. “You have haunted this place for long enough, Evil One. Leave now.”

The Darkness screamed, a sound like the breaking of the very world, and the Child fell, the noise slicing through his ears. The Darkness’ presence thundered all around, both in spirit and in the physical world, and the Child cried out, sure that he would be swallowed by the overwhelming presence as the scream went on.

Everything was still. Silent.

The Child became aware that someone was holding him, rocking him. It felt like his father, but he did not feel the metal he wore, nor did he immediately feel his spirit. However, a spirit surrounded him, warm and full of love and power.

The Child opened his eyes and looked up. The Man who had come to save him was the one who held him, and he smiled gently when their eyes met.

“My child,” he said, “have you forgotten my voice?”

The Child blinked. His voice was familiar, yes, but he still could not place it.

“As you grow, so will the number of your enemies,” the Man said, his eyes saddening a little. “Even when you know pain, I will still be there.”

His words sparked something in the Child. He remembered the Man’s voice, where he had heard it before.

In the long days and nights spent in darkness and fear, he had been there, whispering promises that one day things would change. When his father had first found him, the Man’s voice had been there, giving him the courage to go with him. When his father left him for a short time, he had been there in the despair.

_He will return for you._

And his father had, true to the Man’s word. Over time, the Child had become so swept up in the joy of his father that he had forgotten the world of spirits and the gentle reassurance therein, only returning when fear and hate beckoned him with new words, urging him to give in to what he wanted to do so desperately.

The Child rested his head against the Man’s shoulder, feeling something he would only know later as shame. How could he have forgotten the one who protected him for so long, who had guided him towards his father?

“You are forgiven,” the Man said, as if sensing his feelings. “The fear you feel for losing your father can easily drive you towards darkness.”

The Man pulled the Child away from his shoulder, forcing their eyes to meet once again. His eyes were endlessly deep and full of love, so much so that the Child had a hard time looking. It seemed to him the Man, though he appeared as a human, was something far more than a spirit like the Darkness. In his eyes he saw a glimpse of forever, and realized that the Man may very well be someone without beginning or end.

“You must give your fear to me,” the Man said. “You cannot control everything that happens, but you can control your fear, your anger, your hate. Everything the Darkness would use against you.”

The Child knew he was right.

“Never doubt that your father will protect you until his last breath, and he loves you more than his own life,” the Man continued. “Even if you are separated, he will always come for you as long as he lives.”

His words were the truth and the Child knew it in his heart.

The Man smiled, and the sight filled the Child with happiness. “Your father comes now, but remember I am always with you. Be wise to whom you listen.” A gentle hand brushed over the Child’s head, the touch filling him with light and strength.

Then the Child stood alone in the cave, renewed, and there was not a shadow to be seen.

Din could barely make out the stairs beneath his feet, but he pressed on, something beyond his physical senses guiding his steps. He could not see anything in front of him, but he knew his Child was close. His heart thundered in his chest, and he was terribly aware of every second that passed.

A shrill cry rang out in the distance, and Din knew instantly that it was the Child. He sped up his descent, only to freeze as something strange happened. There was a great rushing in his mind, accompanied by the faint vestiges of an enraged cry, and suddenly the spirit that had been warring against him every step of the way was gone.

The change was so sudden that Din stumbled, nearly pitching headfirst down the staircase. The void that had encompassed him was gone, replaced by rough-hewn stone walls and the stairs beneath his feet. He looked back over his shoulder, and saw light pouring in from the entrance above, illuminating everything where there had once been nothing.

He didn’t know what had happened, but he hoped the Child was safe.

Now free of the oppression and shadows, Din descended all the quicker. Eventually he sighted the bottom, lit up by a faint glow. At the bottom, he found a large man-made cave. Ancient carvings littered the walls, illuminated by sunlight that streamed in through a circular hole high in the middle of the ceiling.

And there in the middle of the room stood his Child, whole and unhurt, standing on the seal of the star-hilted sword.

“ _Ad’ika_ ,” Din breathed.

The Child waddled forward, arms out, his face lighting up in a smile.

Din was there in an instant, kneeling on the floor and scooping the Child into his arms. He let out a shuddering breath as he felt the small, familiar weight, all the panic and opposition he had just experienced causing his emotions to run wild.

“Are you hurt?” he croaked, looking over the Child as he blinked back the stinging in his eyes. “Are you…?” He knew how to looks for physical hurts, but he knew nothing about wounds beyond the physical. Worry clawed at him as he considered all the strange sorcery he had just encountered, staring into the Child’s eyes.

The Child babbled and reached up, touching his helmet. Din could see no change in the kid’s personality, but then again, he had known nothing about the dark force warring for possession of his Child. The mere thought of such a dark thing trying to take his Child enraged him all over again and reminded him how powerless he was against sorcery. He exhaled shakily, clutching the little one close to him.

The sound of birdsong caught his attention. He looked over, and saw the convor sitting a few feet away, watching them with something like a smile.

“Thank you,” Din said, wondering if the bird knew how sincerely he meant it. “Is he…will he be alright?”

The convor dipped its head and sang, the sound filling Din with comfort.

_Yes,_ the song seemed to say, _he will be alright._

The Child saw the bird who at the same time was the Man who had saved him. He babbled happily as his father spoke to him, knowing he finally saw what he had seen all along.

Din looked away from the convor for an instant as the Child made noise, and when he looked back the bird was gone. He decided not to question it, accepting that the convor had been there to help, and he had a feeling whatever destroyed the dark spirit had something to do with it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Din said, rising to his feet.

The Child murmured in agreement, snuggling into his father’s hold, his mind free.

As father and son left that ancient place, the bird’s song followed them, singing words neither understood but felt in their hearts.

_As the Light comes upon you,_

_The veil lifts up from your eyes._

_The riddle of you two together long ago,_

_How fragile your memory lies._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -bashes down the door a month late with Starbucks-
> 
> Sorry this took so long guys! Corona changed my way of life significantly and on top of that I had some major computer issues, but here is the final chapter to this story! Hope you enjoy! <3

When the Darkness fled, all the Ysanna felt it in the Force. They turned expectant gazes towards the ruins, feeling as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from that place.

“Elder,” said one of the Ysanna, “did you feel…?”

“Yes,” the Elder replied, his eyes fixed on the crumbling buildings. The Darkness he had known to be in that place all his life was gone, replaced by a loving Light the likes of which he had never felt before. Centuries of hatred were swept away, but how?

“Did the Outsider succeed?” another wondered.

“I’m not sure,” the Elder said truthfully.

They sat and waited, each one wondering at the Light that now resided in the place they had devoted their lives to keeping Outsiders away from. The suns dipped lower, but they remained, set on discovering if the strange Outsider had rescued his child.

“There!” an Ysanna cried at last, pointing towards the top of the staircase.

They all rose, waiting with bated breath. The Outsider appeared at the top of the stairs, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, and in his arms he held the Child.

He descended, the Child held close to him, and as he drew near the Elder felt the Light pouring from the Child, separate from the Light that remained in the ruins but there just the same, so different from the Darkness his people had sensed in him only hours before.

“Outsider,” said the Elder at last, almost forgetting to switch to Basic, “you were successful.”

“Yes,” Din said.

“You defeated the Darkness,” he continued in wonderment. “How?”

“It wasn’t me.” Din looked down at the Child, who grinned back. “I…I don’t think it was him either. It was something else, someone else.”

“Your presence was necessary just the same,” the Elder said. “Without you, the Dark would likely have remained in this place, and for that I thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Din said awkwardly. “Can…can you sense the kid?”

The Elder turned his attention to the little green baby in the man’s arms. His presence in the Force was so full of Light that it was almost painful to feel. “Yes, I can.”

“Is the darkness you felt before gone?”

“Yes,” the Elder said with utmost sincerity, meeting the Child’s deep gaze. “It is truly a wonder.”

“Is he…afraid?” Din asked, looking between the Ysanna and the kid, slightly frustrated that he couldn’t feel whatever they felt.

“Not as he once was.” The Elder’s mask looked at him. “That is what you must understand, Outsider. The Dark draws on fear to create anger and hate. You must teach your child to turn away from such things. Now he is full of Light, but he will be tempted again. Such is the life of one who knows the Force.”

“Is there a way to cut him off from the…Force?”

“No,” the Elder said. “He must make that decision himself.”

Din sighed, resigning himself to the fact that his Child would keep his sorcery for at least as long as he didn’t understand what was going on.

“You are weary. Let us escort you back down the mountain.”

Din didn’t have the energy to refuse, so he nodded and started walking. The Ysanna fell into pace around him, moving more fluidly through the underbrush than he could ever hope to. They were no longer threatening, seeming preoccupied with their thoughts and talking amongst each other.

“Hey,” Din said, catching the Elder’s attention as something occurred to him. “Do you know anything about a convor in the ruins?”

“A convor?”

“It’s a small bird with a long tail. I…saw one while I was in there.”

The Elder paused. “No, I’ve never seen one. I’m sorry.”

Din shrugged wordlessly. So much for an explanation about that.

Itala sat on the streambank, the water burbling by. She had sat there all day, watching the mountain. She heard nothing, saw nothing, and as the sky grew dim she found anxiety starting to gnaw at her mind.

When she finally saw movement, she first thought it was merely a trick of the fading light. However, after a long moment, she saw a glint of metal on the hill and stood to get a better look. A pang of fear shot through her when she saw the Mandalorian, walking surrounded by the Ysanna. Had he failed in his mission and was being escorted back?

The strange little group stopped near the streambank. One of the Ysanna said something Itala couldn’t hear over the burble of the water, and she could’ve sworn she saw the Mandalorian nod as if he understood what the Ysanna said.

Then, the Mandalorian turned and sloshed his way across the creek. Itala was relieved to see the Child resting comfortably in his arms, looking close to nodding off.

“I was starting to wonder,” she said as the Mandalorian approached.

“We’re fine,” he said.

Across the stream, she saw one of the Ysanna raise a hand in a silent greeting, which she returned.

Din saw the exchange and nodded. “The Elder wanted me to tell you that he is very thankful for all that you’ve done for his people.”

Itala stared at him. “You understood him?”

“He is the only one who speaks Basic.”

Itala huffed, looked back towards the stream, but the Ysanna had already vanished back into the darkening forest without so much as a sound.

“Well,” she said, “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes and no,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

He told her everything from the initial encounter with the Ysanna all the way to the strange attack and subsequent disappearance of the Darkness. Itala meant to eat, but forgot all about her food as she became enthralled in his tale.

When he finally finished his story, her eyes drifted to the Child sleeping in his arms. “So, the Darkness called to him?”

“That’s what I was told,” Din said.

“Did he defeat it?”

“I don’t think so. There was someone else there with him, with me, and I don’t know…” He trailed off, looking at her for an answer.

Itala shrugged. “I don’t know much more than you, Mandalorian. There was something you mentioned that sounds familiar, though.”

“What?”

“You said there was a picture of a star-hilted sword.”

Din nodded. “Yes. I saw that everywhere.”

Itala paused as she tried to remember. “I remember hearing something long ago about the weapon of Force users…I think they called it a lightsaber.”

“Lightsaber?” Din echoed.

“That is what the star-hilted sword made me think of.”

“You’re sure that’s what it was called?” Din asked, sitting forward.

“Fairly certain.” Itala noted his sudden interest. “Why? Have you heard of that before?”

“Not a ‘lightsaber’, but the Darksaber. It’s an ancient weapon of the Mandalorians.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much, except that it is highly valued among my people.”

“Maybe you’ll find some answers about the Jedi if you find the Darksaber.”

“Maybe. Looks like this trip wasn’t a complete waste of time after all,” Din said, a dry bit of humor creeping into his tone.

Itala smiled at the pair. In the pause, she heard a faint crackle of breath through his helmet, and she instantly knew it was a stifled yawn. Rising, she handed him the extra plate of food that she had prepared for both him and the Child.

“Eat and sleep,” she told him. “From the sound of it you two have had a very strange and hard day.”

Din needed no second bidding. He thanked her profusely and took the food and the Child to the spare room they had stayed in the night before.

He laid the Child gently on the bed, taking off his helmet. As he ate, he allowed his to drift unhindered over the Child’s small countenance. Now that he was paying true attention, it seemed the kid was more relaxed, at peace than he had been before. There was a distinct lack of a scrunch in his brow, and he had slept now without waking for a couple of hours. Normally he woke at least once with some sort of fearful expression if not outright crying, but now it seemed that too had gone.

So much had happened that day it felt like they had been up on the mountain for weeks, not just for a day. Din remembered the unnatural darkness surrounding him, and the feeling of utter helplessness he had felt made a shiver crawl up his spine at the mere thought.

He was not cut out for sorcery, but it seemed his own people had some ties to it now that he had uncovered a tidbit of information. Lightsaber and Darksaber, perhaps two sides of the same coin. One the weapon of the _je’dai,_ one the weapon of Mandalore.

Din had no idea where the Darksaber might be found now that Mandalore was fallen, but it was a lead on the sorcery having to do with his own people, so he had to pursue it. In doing so, he would hopefully learn more about the Child’s powers, and maybe the Mandalorians as well.

It did not take long for him to finish his meal, having grown ravenous after going all day without eating. He set the plate aside, leaving a little bit of meat for the Child should he wake up hungry, and laid down, curling around the little one already deep in slumber.

The events of the day were strange and fearful, but he felt oddly at peace. The Child was with him, and by some means he had overcome the fears Din hadn’t even known he struggled with. He found himself desperately wishing to know the Child’s thoughts, knowing they stretched beyond the mere inclinations of a kid, but he could not, at least not yet.

He looked at the Child’s peaceful face. He knew this all had something to do with the convor. The bird’s inexplicable appearance and disappearance bothered him, as well as its mere existence. There was something about it that told him it was not merely a bird, not merely a product of sorcery, but something greater, something more powerful than even the darkness he had encountered.

Maybe the Child knew more about the bird than he did. Probably so, but there was no way to get a good answer from a kid who could barely vocalize.

Din sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t have the answers, and maybe he would never get them, but what could he expect when he had willingly stepped into a world of sorcery?

Weariness turned his eyelids leaden, and he drifted off to the sight of his Child’s face. The kid was at peace, which meant he was too.

They left the next morning.

Din hoped Itala understood the measure of his gratitude as she would accept no compensation.

“I’m glad to help anyone who’s not a looter,” she said.

The Child clung to his father’s helmet, seated upon his shoulder as they headed out across the rocky plain.

“Ready to get off this planet?” Din asked.

The Child babbled happily. He could feel his father’s spirit around him, warm and loving. Yesterday’s events seemed like nothing but a nightmare, but the Child knew inwardly that it was real. When he sighted the ruins on the hill that morning, he felt a distinct lack of the dark pull he had felt before. Only the ruins’ spirit remained, ancient but harmless.

The Child wondered about the Man. He had never felt such power, such love, and He had banished the encroaching Darkness in his mind, replacing it with Light. He knew in his heart that the Light would not stay so easily, and he would have to make an effort to cling to it and not stray to darker things.

_You must give your fear to me._

That’s what he would do, the Child decided, patting his father’s helmet. They were together now, and that was what mattered. The hunters and bad men that plagued his mind would not rule him.

It was afternoon when Din sighted the Razor Crest in the distance, a silver sparkle against the rocky cliff face it sat beneath. He opened his mouth to say something to the kid, only to be interrupted by an ear-splitting squeal of delight right next to his ear.

The Child wriggled on his father’s shoulder. Staying in new places was interesting, but he was delighted to see his home. There it was comfortable, and he loved all the sparkly buttons he tried to play with.

“Excited, huh?” Din tightened his grip on the kid to ensure he didn’t wiggle his way into unbalancing himself. “Me too.”

The suns were a little lower when the duo made it to the ship. Instinctively, Din checked it over for any signs of damage or tampering, but he saw nothing. The Child nearly jumped from his shoulder when he opened the gangplank, and he was quick to lower him to the ground.

The Child toddled around the ship while Din stored his supplies away, inspecting every little thing. He cried out in happiness when he found the control knob, clinging to it like he had been separated from his treasure for longer than a day.

“Alright, kid.” Din finished his tasks and scooped the Child up, taking him to the cockpit. “Ready to go?”

The Child waved a fist in the air as Din set him in his pram.

“Me too.”

As Din started up the engines, he caught the Child moving in the corner of his visor. He turned briefly, and saw the kid waving to something through the viewport. He followed the Child’s gaze, and caught a glimpse of feathers and a long tail passing over the ship.

“Thank you,” Din said. The convor would logically not be able to hear him outside the ship, but he had a feeling the bird heard him anyway.

The Razor Crest lifted off the ground, and they left Ossus different than they had come with a new quest in mind: the Darksaber.

The Elder stepped into the ruins.

He paused, waiting for a surge of Darkness in the Force, waiting to overtake him, but he felt nothing save for the undercurrent of Light.

Emboldened, he took another step, then another. He was alone; though his people had wanted to come with him, the Elder had insisted on going alone in case there was danger.

He walked across the broken courtyard, approaching the entrance to the building. Though he maintained vigilance, he still felt nothing save for the ancient presence in the Force and the gentle presence of Light.

He ducked through the doorway, gazing upon the place he and his ancestors had feared and sought to protect others from. Now that the Darkness was gone, the crumbling halls were only a remnant of a bygone time, the stones possessing no malice of their own. It felt strange, almost wrong to the Elder that he would be afforded a chance to gaze upon the place that so many of his ancestors had feared.

The Elder stepped over rocks and through a half-open door, finding himself in a huge, circular room. Beneath his feet was the faded seal of the Jedi, and above his head arched the high, broken ceiling. Sunlight sliced through the dust motes, creating bright rays that fell down on the ancient seal.

The Elder turned in a circle, taking in the enormity of the room he stood in.

“Elder.”

The Ysanna flinched as the voice rang loud through the quiet building and turned. It was not wholly unexpected, but he had secretly hoped he would not hear it. It was the voice of the convor, now stronger and more powerful.

The Man stood in the center of the room, the shaft of sunlight that hit him giving him an even more ethereal look. “Why did you lie to the Mandalorian?”

The Elder flinched again. “I—I—”

“He asked you about me, but you said you had never heard me before.”

The Elder dared to look at the Man. There was no anger in his voice and face, only a disappointment akin to a parent looking at a disobedient child. But the Light still radiated from him, loving despite the disappointment

“I know your voice,” the Elder confessed, the words spilling forth, “but I was afraid to hear it, afraid to tell the Outsider of it. This place has been full of evil all my life, and I was afraid to heed any voice from the mountain. I didn’t want to tell the Outsider for fear he might accidentally lead his Child to Darkness again.”

“But you know my voice is different from the Darkness,” the Man pressed gently.

“Yes,” the Elder replied slowly.

“Had the Mandalorian and his Child not heeded my voice, they would have fallen to Darkness.”

“So it was you who cast out the Darkness?”

“Yes,” the Man said, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. “Do you not feel the Light?”

“I feel it, but I do not fully understand it. I’m sorry.”

“You will in time if you allow yourself to.”

“But the Darkness has been here for so long, for centuries,” the Elder said. “How can my people hope to know the Light after years fearing the Dark?”

“I will help you,” the Man said. “The Darkness has had its time. As Darkness rises, so must the Light. The Light will meet the shadows and will overcome them in the end.”

The Elder nodded. He didn’t know why, but the Man’s words filled him with a surge of hope the likes of which he had not felt before in his life.

“This place has been a den of shadows for long enough,” the Man continued. “If you will allow it, it can become the house of Light it once was.”

The Elder looked around the room again. Everything was crumbling, lifeless, possessing neither Light nor Dark. Then he looked at the Man, full of Light and power, a bright star amid the decay, and saw the same Light that had poured from the Child when he and his father had come from the ruins.

“Will you change yourself and this place?” the Man asked. “It will not be easy, but I will be with you.”

The Elder looked into the Man’s eyes and saw the forever therein. Suddenly he understood that no amount of Darkness could ever encompass the Light the Man held, and how the centuries of hatred that had dwelt here could suddenly be swept away.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I will.”

The Man stretched forth a hand and found it firmly clasped. He smiled. “Come, brother. We have much work to do.”


End file.
